


they've given you a number and taken away your name

by redbrunja



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-01-26 14:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12559248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja
Summary: It's a yes on that drink.[This is a place for short, unrelated Gaby/Illya ficlets. Enjoy!]





	1. kgb fiance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a place for me to post unrelated gallya ficlets so they don't get lost in chatlogs and tumblr posts. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempting to escape Gaby isn't going to go well for you.

"I see you've met my fiancé," Gaby said.

She strolled across the roof, heels tapping gently, joining the two other men at the edge, where the wind tugged at her hair.

"He is the KGB's best," she continued, ignoring the faint sound of whimpering. "Well - he _was_. Do you know why he defected? He was too dangerous, even for the KGB. They knew they couldn't control him. They sent an entire squad to retire him and he killed all of them. There is only one person he obeys. That person ...is me. Now, should I tell him to drop you off the side of this building or.... let you live?"


	2. drinks are on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a yes on that drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gallyavanting @ tumblr left some _inspiring_ tags on [this post](http://gallyavanting.tumblr.com/post/166769592342)

Gaby sways across the room, moving to beat of the radio, the beat of the alcohol in her blood.

She'd made two drinks at the mini-bar and she comes to a stop in front of Illya, who was pretending his attention was entirely on his chess set.

She imperiously holds out one of the glasses.

"Illya, drink me," she orders.

Illya's head snaps up, all pretense gone.

It is only then that she realizes her slip. "I mean drink this," she corrects.

Illya takes the glass from her, doesn't look away as he swallows it down.

Gaby is drunk enough not to hide the way she watches his mouth, the wetness there from the vodka, the line of his throat as he swallows.

Illya lowers his gaze down when he’s finished, sets the drink aside. Looks back up at her through his lashes.

He slowly reaches out, slides his hands up her thighs, rests his big, broad hands at the subtle curve of her hips, just under her top.

Gaby’s lips are slightly parted and Illya sees her tongue dart out, wet them.

That gives him the courage to hook his fingers in the waistband of her pajamas, tug them down. He hadn’t realized he’d hooked his fingers in her panties until he sees the dark curls nestled at the apex of her thighs.

Illya slides off the chair, his knees hitting the ground with a heavy thump.

That’s when Gaby moves, lifts her dancer’s leg over his shoulder, digs her heel into his back. Illya goes willingly, groaning at the first taste of her.


	3. modern/police au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [In which tags inspire me to write fic. Again.](https://tennyowithanunclespecial.tumblr.com/post/167224879283/turningleafposts-mollokoplus-she-hates-the)

Illya raised the lid of the thermos to his lips and took a sip of dark, sweet tea.

This was how he liked to start his day. He'd stop at one of the many scenic pull-offs that edged the highway leading into town, drink the tea his mother had made for him, and enjoy a moment of quiet and solitude before the madness of his shift began.

Today, the sky was clear, a delicate, post-dawn blue, looking as fragile as robin's egg. Far below, the strait glittered a deeper blue. The wind rustled the evergreen trees, filling the air with the crisp scent of pine.

There was a low rumble.

Illya's first thought was thunder, even though the sky was clear. He turned his head just in time to see a sleek, black and white sports car fly around the bend, deceptively quiet for its speed.

Illya saw the car approaching and then in the next blink he was looking at its scarlet tail lights.

He dashed to his vehicle, knocking his thermos off the ledge, tea spilling into the dirt.

He started his car and pulled out, dirt spitting up from behind his tires.

He pressed the gas pedal to the floor and raced after the sports car.

Half a mile and he hadn't caught up, a mile and he hadn't seen a glimpse, a mile and a half and he wondered if the other driver had pulled off and then - there she was.

He clenched the steering wheel, knuckles white, eking out just a touch more speed, his car slowly creeping up towards the other driver.

Illya saw a slender, gloved hand reach up and adjust the rear view mirror.

The road widened, opening up into four lanes, and Illya pulled along side the other vehicle.

Ilya inhaled sharply - dark eyes, elegent brows, her lips just curling into a smile. She began to decerate and Illya glanced forward, realize there was a red light in front of him, and scretched to a less than controlled stop.

Blushing, he back the car up a few feet, getting exactly in line with the other driver.

She was smirking at him now. She turned her eyes forward, brushed a strand of hair away from her face and then -

-she rocketed away from him.

The light had turned green.

Illya hit the accelerator, raced after her.

He wasn't catching up to her this time.

Despite the out-of-state license plate, took each curve of the road as smooth as silk, not losing an fraction of speed as the road twisted away from the strait, turning inland, arching up and then dropping over hills. Illya had his foot flat to the floor and yet the black sports car continued to ease away from him.

Illya clenched his jaw and then realized - horribly belatedly - that he had yet to turn on the lights and siren.

He hit them both.

The was a moment where nothing changed, and Illya was about to reach for the radio and request backup and then the sports car spun into a handle-break turn, sliding into the roadside turn out on the opposite side of the road.

Illya roared past her in shock, slammed on the breaks, and then performed a blocky three point turn, parking directly behind her.

He felt stupid and embarrassed before he even got out of his car.

She rolled down her window as he walked up.

"Please step out of the car, miss," he requested tersely.

She raised her eyebrows and did. Illya regretted asking immediately. She was wearing a sleek, tight dress that matched her car, and flirty red heeled sandals that made him want to get on he knees and slip off her.

"Don't tell me you're a sore loser," she said as she handled him her license and registration and then went to lean against the hood of her car.

 

* * *

 

 

The day went downhill from there.

Almost immediately after writing Gabriela Teller a ticket that made her curl her lip and swear at him in German, he'd gotten a call to a domestic dispute.

After processing the arrest, he cross the bullpen, intending to head straight for the kitchenette. He'd had nothing but half a cup of tea this morning, and it was now 3 p.m.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Solo wave at him and Illya made the fatal mistake of looking.

"Peril!" Solo called. "Come meet our new partner."

Next to him was Gabriela Teller, black dress, red heels, unamused expression.

"We've met," she said. "He welcomed me to town with a speeding ticket."

She held up the ticket. Solo plucked it out of her hand.

"Good lord, Illya, is that anyway to greet a lady?" he tsked. "Don't worry, Gaby, I'll take care of this for you."

"She _was_ speeding," Illya said, forever appalled at Solo's hypocritical standards.

"So were you," Gaby retorted. "You were just speeding _slower_ than I was."

Illya had thought it was a bad idea when Waverly announced that an old friend of Solo's was joining their division - now he was beyond certain of it.


	4. "please don't leave"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission goes awry.

Illya staggered through the stream, rocks sliding from beneath his feet, the currently tugging at his ankles.

He would have fallen if it hadn't been for Gaby's arm around his waist, her shoulder jammed into his side, bracing him up.

Gaby spots a place where rocks led up out of the water, into a stand of low brush. They wouldn't leave tracks as they left the stream.

Illya went down heavily before the bushes and Gaby crawled past him, dragged in deeper under the foliage. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest, his temples, beating and draining away from the wound in his side.

Far off, there was the baying of hounds.

Gaby checked that the transmitter was live, sending out their coordinates to the extraction team.

"Solo will be here soon," she promised. She kissed his forehead, her lips hot against his cool skin, and then pulled away.

"No," he said, and reached for her. "Please, don't leave."

Gaby squeeze his hand and then pulled it off the sleeve and her coat. "I'll come back," she said. "I promise. Stay here, stay quiet." Her voice wobbled. "Stay _alive._ Do you promise me, Illya?"

This was wrong, all wrong, but he nodded and then she was crawling away, back into the stream, and then clambering out again, nosily, drawing the men and their dogs away from him, while he could do nothing but try to keep from bleeding out onto the frozen ground.


End file.
